


Chase the Blues

by purpleeyesandbowties



Series: Addy and the Maitlands [6]
Category: Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Addy Maitland, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 21:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20071099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleeyesandbowties/pseuds/purpleeyesandbowties
Summary: Lydia is sad. Addy helps. Then Addy is sad and Lydia helps. That's what having siblings is all about.





	Chase the Blues

**Author's Note:**

> did i write this because i'm struggling with preemptive grief and want my favorite characters to comfort me? of course.
> 
> tw for a mention of suicide

Today fucking _sucked _and there really was no reason it should except it was her mother’s half-birthday—which Emily always celebrated more than the actual thing—and the book she had to read for class was pretty much exclusively about the importance of motherhood and she was so sad about it she could hardly breathe. The drive back from college was not one she took very often but today she made it because _not_ making it was _not_ an option. Talking was too much work so when she made it back, shaking with the effort of keeping herself together, she walked right past all four parents, Beetlejuice, and Addy, and went straight into her room. She locked the door behind her and flopped on the bed. Her throat ached with the need to cry but now that she was here, the tears refused to come, so she settled for staring, angry and exhausted, at the wall. Time had no meaning when she got this way, but her watch said it was only five minutes later when she heard footsteps approaching. When four of the seven people in your house could walk through walls, locked doors rarely meant anything. Adam and Barbara were good about not barging in without knocking first and Beetlejuice remembered about half the time. Addy, on the other hand, was too little to understand the concept of boundaries. So Lydia wasn’t surprised when he crawled up on her bed. She turned to face the other way. Undeterred, he asked, “Lydia? Why are you home?”

She sighed and scraped up a few words for her baby brother.

“I needed to come home for a bit. See you guys.”

“But…you’re not looking at us.”

That almost made her smile. It was too hard to explain how just being in the same house as everyone soothed some of the raw hurt in her chest, and that being surrounded by familiar things that reminded her of good things, bad things, and bad things made better by good people. Even though she had all those words floating around in her head, they wouldn’t line themselves up in a coherent way, let alone a way a kid could understand. So she said nothing.

Addy didn’t like silence. He tapped her back a few seconds later.

“Lydia? Lydia, are you awake? Are you taking a nap? Are you sick? Are you sad?”

“I’m sad,” she said, because that at least she could say and he could understand.

“Why?”

And that was the question, isn’t it? Why are you sad, Lydia? Your mom died six years ago. You have a surplus of parents who love you. You have a family and you’re doing well in college and you actually might know what you’re doing with your life and your meds have been working. You even have a girlfriend. So why are you sad, Lydia? Why?

She curled up into a tighter ball and tried to force away the tears she desperately wanted to shed just a few minutes ago. Not here, not in front of Addy.

She plugged up her ears to block sound. It was painfully childish for a grown-up woman, but she couldn’t help it—if he said one more thing to her she was gonna lose it.

She peeked over her shoulder a few minutes later and he was gone. That, absurdly, made her cry for real. He was just a kid, how could he know she wanted him here? 

Someone knocked at the door.

“You okay, honey?” Adam asked. She could just picture him standing outside her door, leaning against it with a worried dad-expression of uncertainty on his face. 

“Go away.”

And he did, the bastard. Couldn’t anyone tell she didn’t want to be lonely alone?

“I said _go away,_” she snapped at the sound of footsteps. 

“No you didn’t,” Addy said, sounding a little confused. He clambered up on the bed, his pudgy hands holding a small bundle against his chest. Business-like, he set out the items—a chocolate bar, a handful of ants (dead) in a plastic cup, a packet of tissues, and a wet washcloth. 

“When I’m sad, Mommy says it’s okay. Daddy says being sad is nicer if you’re comfy. Baddie doesn’t say anything but I think he gets sad, too.”

He glanced at her. “You don’t gotta talk.”

With more strength than a six-year-old should have, he pushed Lydia over so she was lying on her stomach. To the right of her head, he put the tissues. To the left, the chocolate. The ants were for him. He placed the wet, cool washcloth against her neck.

“Mommy does this for me when I cry. You can blow your nose on the washcloth if you want, even though it’s not allowed. I won’t tell.”

The simple, matter-of-fact way he was treating her made her feel a little foolish, like he was the grown-up and she was the child.

“When did you get better coping skills than me?” she muttered. Addy frowned.

“What does that mean?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you still sad?”

Lydia sighed. “Yeah, buddy.”

“Hmm.” Addy regarded her for a few seconds. Then he heaved a sigh and sat down on Lydia’s back.

“Ouch! What are you doing?” Lydia shrieked.

Gently, Addy started rubbing her back. He didn’t do a very good job—it was more of a soft slap against her shoulder blades.

“If my tummy hurts or I can’t sleep, Baddie rubs my back. Don’t tell. He said it was a secret.”

“You have some good parents, don’t you?” Lydia said. Carefully, she sat up, dislodging Addy, and rested against the headboard of her bed. Addy scooted a little closer and held up the washcloth again. She took it and wiped her eyes.

“I do!” Addy said happily. “And so do you!”

Lydia hid her face in the washcloth. “Yeah,” she agreed, her voice choked up. 

Addy wormed his way into her lap and wrapped his arms around her neck. Lydia rested her cheek against Addy’s head. 

“What’s wrong?”

“My mom is dead,” Lydia said, simple and plaintive. 

Addy frowned. “Yeah, I know. Mommy _is_ dead.”

“My mommy,” Lydia clarified. “Your mommy is named Barbara. My mommy’s name was Emily.”

“But you’re my sister, right? That means your mommy is my mommy.”

Lydia kissed the top of his head. “I am. Families can be complicated, though. Just like you have Mommy, Daddy, and Baddie, I had my mom and dad. Then she died and _your_ mommy said she would be my mommy.”

Addy’s nose scrunched up his nose, trying to follow the explanation. 

“Okay,” he said finally. “As long as you’re still my sister.”

“Always,” Lydia promised. 

Addy paused for a moment, thinking. “How come your dead mommy isn’t here? She’s a ghost, isn’t she?”

Lydia took a moment to compose herself. She disguised it by unwrapping the candy bar and snapping it in half.

“I’m not supposed to have sugar after lunchtime,” Addy said conspiratorially, sticking a huge chunk in his mouth. Lydia took a bite of her half.

“And I’m not supposed to skip school. So we’re both in a little bit of trouble today.”

Addy nodded seriously, chocolate _everywhere _on his face. She took the washcloth and did her best to wipe away the chocolate mess. He tolerated it for a few seconds but pushed her hand away. The washcloth dropped back into her lap, now stained with chocolate.

“Most people, when they die, go to the Netherworld. That’s where my mommy is.”

“Why don’t you go visit her?”

Lydia rolled the question around in her head, trying to think of a good way to describe it. 

“It’s like….” she said slowly. “It’s like your _Where’s Waldo _books. The Netherworld is really, really big. My mommy is hiding somewhere in there but I can’t see her.”

“I’m very good at that. I can find her for you!”

“Thanks, buddy,” Lydia said with a wan smile. She ruffled his hair. “But I’m okay. When I die and go to the Netherworld, I’ll find her myself.”

Addy made a sound like a squeak and buried his face in her lap. Tearfully, he said, “Don’t die, Lydia! I love you!”

“Die? What are you talking about?” she asked. She ran her hand through his hair comfortingly. This, at least, felt more natural—her comforting him instead of the other way around.

“I heard Baddie tell Mommy that some people get so sad they die. He said that his mommy did that. You can’t die! If you die then you can’t leave the house anymore!”

“Shit,” Lydia whispered to herself. She cupped Addy’s chubby cheek in her hand. “Hey, look at me, Ads. What Baddie’s talking about…that’s different. I’m tough, okay? I won’t die from sadness.”

“You gotta pinky promise,” Addy said fiercely. Lydia took his hand and locked her pinky around his. 

“I promise,” she said quietly.

Addy let out a breath and relaxed against her. 

“Are you still sad?” he asked. “And don’t lie! I don’t like it when you lie.”

“I am. And I will be, for a little bit longer. Remember what your mommy said?”

“It’s okay to be sad,” Addy intoned. He hesitated. “Even though you’re sad, can I stay here with you?”

“You know what, Addy? I think that might make me very, very happy.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sidras-tak on tumblr, addy is my baby, come talk to me!


End file.
